'Na..!'
'..Nael!'
'Wa.. ..p!'
'Wake up!'
'Hmm?'
Consciousness returned in fragments.
'Urgh!'
First came the ache - a deep, hollow pain that seemed to echo through his bones and soul. Then awareness of softness beneath him, clean sheets instead of cold stone. The antiseptic smell of healing potions mixed with something floral.
'Hmm?'
Nael's eyes opened to blurred shapes and muted light.
He blinked several times, his vision slowly sharpening.
'?'
He only saw white walls, a window with morning sunlight filtering through gauze curtains, and a few medical equipment.
'Where... am I?'
He tried to sit up, muscles protesting with sharp twinges. His body felt strange. Hollow in some places, tender in others, like he'd been carefully reassembled by someone who knew their craft. The pain was manageable, which surprised him. He remembered agony beyond description.
His gaze swept the room more carefully, taking inventory. This seemed like a hospital room. And a private one at that, judging by the single bed and quality of the furnishings.
'But why? Did someone put me-?'
Movement at the edge of his vision made him look down.
A figure sat slumped in a chair beside his bed, silver hair cascading forward to hide her face. She was leaning over the mattress, her head pillowed on her folded arms. And her hand... her hand was wrapped around his, her grip firm even in sleep, as if she'd been afraid to let go.
'Mira?'
Nael stared, his mind struggling to process the scene. She was asleep, her breathing soft and even. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, visible even through the curtain of hair. Her clothes were rumpled, indicating she'd been here for days.
'What happened?'
The last thing he remembered was the cold stone, the scraping shadow, the blinding light, and a voice calling his name. A figure with golden hair…
'...It wasn't Mother. It was...'
His gaze returned to Mireille's sleeping form. The pieces clicked together with quiet certainty.
'...She saved me.'
The realization settled over him like warmth.
In his final moments, when consciousness had been slipping away, he'd glimpsed golden hair and a face filled with panic. Obviously, it wasn't his mother. His fevered mind must have caused hallucinations.
It had been her... Mira.
She must have somehow found him in that ruined chamber and brought him back.
'Yeah...'
Because she was the only person left who might care enough to try. The only person with whom he was close.
'...'
His fingers tightened slightly around hers, careful not to wake her. She looked exhausted, like she'd been keeping vigil for however long he'd been unconscious.
The sight stirred something complicated in his chest, gratitude mixed with guilt.
But more than that, he felt relief.
Relief that he'd been wrong. Relief that she was exactly as he'd always believed her to be. His recent doubts, the nagging questions about whether she'd changed, whether power had corrupted the girl he'd known - all of it had been unfounded paranoia.
Someone else might have argued that she owed him for enabling her awakening, for the catalyst that had transformed her life. But Nael knew better. He owed her just as much, if not more. Because of her, because of what his investment in her had returned, he'd survived. He'd grown stronger. He'd found his path as an Investor, discovered what his strange class could truly accomplish.
The irony wasn't lost on him. His first investment had saved his life in the most literal way possible.
'...Hmm.'
He sat in the quiet morning light, watching her sleep, processing everything that had led to this moment. The hollow ache in his bones reminded him of how close he'd come to dying. How close he'd come to never seeing her again, never knowing if his gamble on her potential had been worth it.
Now he knew. It had been worth everything.
After several minutes of contemplative silence, Nael carefully shifted his free hand. He didn't want to disturb Mireille's rest, but he needed answers. Needed to understand exactly what had happened to him, what he'd gained or lost in that catastrophic battle.
With practiced mental focus, he summoned his Soul Tome.
The familiar weight materialized in his palm, its pages rustling softly as it opened.
'...It's different.' Nael instantly noticed the changes. 'Probably because my class got upgraded. And... it feels a bit heavier than before too.'
Then, it was definitely time to see what remained of Nael the Investor.
━━━ ◇ ◆ ◇ ━━━
Name: Nael
Age: 16
Class: Investor
Grade: Uncommon
Title: Prime Investor
Achievments: Architect of a Legend | Giant Slayer | Solo Hunter* | Unique Slayer | ...
Level: 10(*)
Essence: 30630/15000(*)
━━━ ◇ ◆ ◇ ━━━
"..."
Nael stared at the page, his mind struggling to process the numbers. He opened his mouth, then closed it, a silent gasp of pure disbelief.
'...10?'
'...I am Level 10?'
He stared at the asterisk next to his level, then at the essence count that seemed impossible. 30,630 essence. The number was so large it felt abstract.
'Wait... does that mean...'
The pieces clicked together slowly. He'd already been boosted to Level 8 by that incredible, inexplicable flood of power right before the final clash. The Gloom Predator... a Unique-grade monster. It must have been worth a fortune in Essence. An absolute fortune. And since he was the one who had fought it, who had apparently landed the decisive blows before going down, the Weave must have awarded him the majority of the spoils. But...
'...30,630 Essence?'
It was the remaining amount after reaching level 10. The requirements had jumped exponentially - he could see that 15,000 was needed for level 11. But still, he had more than enough. Though it wouldn't probably be enough to reach level 12.
And...
A thrill, sharp and clear, cut through his astonishment.
'I'm ready for the Ascension Quest.'
The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Reaching Level 10 wasn't just another level up; it was the first major milestone for any Awakened. It was when a Class truly began to define itself, to shed its beginner limitations and step into its true potential. For him, the Common-grade [Investor] becoming an Uncommon-grade... what would that even look like? What would the Great Weave ask of him to prove he was worthy of advancement?
'I can't wait!'